


Do You Want?

by nicholas_de_vilance



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aftercare, Anal, Anal Fingering, Angst, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Crying, Deepthroating, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, More talking, Not with Bull, Pillow Talk, Praise Kink, Seriously too much talking, Size Difference, Size Kink, Talking, Under-negotiated Kink, Unrealistic sex positions, if there is such a thing, in a flashback, the good kind of crying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-04 18:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5344358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicholas_de_vilance/pseuds/nicholas_de_vilance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dorian doesn't respond to his flirting, Bull stops doing it.  According to Dorian, this was a mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ToPerceiveIsToBePerceptive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToPerceiveIsToBePerceptive/gifts).



> This is the first thing I've posted in a while, and the first thing for this lovely fandom. I was inspired to write again by the lovely, ToPerceiveIsToSuffer.
> 
> Hope this isn't complete shit, as it was written on my phone over the course of three hours and I haven't successfully written anything pornographic in what feels like years.
> 
> Enjoy?  
> Let me know if I get anyone's character wrong?  
> Constructive criticism?  
> Much love, all.

The Iron Bull looked up from sharpening his great sword. It was ritual, routine - really calmed him down after training. He managed to find solace in the repetitive motions, stroking whetstone over gleaming metal with long, firm passes of his hand. He liked the control and responsibility of caring for something he relied on for his life. Today was the great sword, tomorrow would be the axe, the next day another weapon in his ever-increasing collection. He'd spent too much time with Adaar. He was starting to hoard things

Of the many people he could conceivably expect to see standing in the doorway to his quarters in the middle of the day, it was not Dorian. The altus had made it quite clear more than once that he didn't appreciate Bull's attention. More than that, he didn't encourage any sort of camaraderie between them. Bull's instinct was to press on. There was something about the mage that had him curious. Something down below the standoffish attitude and well-crafted if petty insults

However, ever since that day at the Gull and Lantern - ever since Adaar came out of the tavern looking about ready to kill _everything_  within arm's reach - Bull thought maybe he should just leave Dorian alone. _"It's his fucking father,"_  the Inquisitor had said, which explained the fresh tears on the altus' face when he finally emerged. Bull looked at him and thought beyond the many jokes he'd made Dorian the butt of. Suddenly the idea of flirting shamelessly with him seemed less fun and free. Some months before, when Bull first met the man, he might have laughed at this. He might have delighted to see the spoiled, noble brat in true anguish. Back then, Bull didn't think Dorian knew the meaning of pain.

Standing there, in front of that tavern watching a powerful Tevinter mage scramble to pull his mask into place... Bull thought maybe it wasn't his place to poke and prod.  He made it his business to know everything he possibly could about the people he worked with. He saw Dorian staring at him one day and jumped on it, chasing the interest around like a hunting wolf. He had wanted to know everything that made the mouthy bastard tick. Now, he saw the shamed blushes and flustered protests as something else. Laced into Dorian's propriety and borderline prudishness, was a hint of guilt and very much fear.

The Bull backed off after that. He'd grown to respect Dorian, despite his pampered attitude and blasé approach to doing his job. Bull had seen the passion Dorian worked so hard to hide - the depth of care he took in making his actions look effortless and tedious. The mage wanted to be aloof, to remain detached lest he get too close and hurt himself. Bull could understand.

It didn't stand to reason then, that Dorian would seek him out like this. Bull wouldn't call they're relationship "nemeses" or anything equally dramatic. But they didn't know each other well enough to be friends.

"Hey," Bull greeted him, simply. He set his sword against the wall and stood. "Need something?"

"You, ah..." Dorian began, hesitation already giving away his nerves. "You were quite literal about that 'open door' policy, then? I was planning on having to pace back and forth furtively before finally gathering the will to knock."

"It stays open so long as I'm not _otherwise occupied,_  yeah." Bull smirked lightly. So much for backing off. He expected to be snapped at for his lack of subtlety. Dorian would call him some clever name and storm away all drama and hot air.

Aside from a definite flush to his cheeks, Dorian did not react. "May I close it now, please? I have...something I'd like to...that is, I...kaffas. Look at me, stuttering like a maiden in a dirty novel." He scrubbed at the side of his face as though it might make the red on his cheeks fade.

Bull's grin softened a little. He reached around the smaller man and pulled the door closed with a gentle click. It was a quiet sound. Dorian still jumped, just short of ten feet into the air. He looked up at Bull like he hadn't known he was there at all.

"You want to talk," Bull offered, leaving his tone open for Dorian to continue.

Swallowing a considerable lump in his throat, Dorian nodded. "I'm used to a certain level of...not privacy, more like secrecy involving my...affairs," he stated. "I'm afraid it's made me quite terrible at understanding and expressing what I...want. I'm not used to being open about myself, and certainly not being flirted with at max volume in front of the Maker and everyone."

"I had noticed," Bull stated. He had just a little bit of apology in his voice. Dorian didn't seem to pick up on that.

"And yet you persisted!" The mage finally raised his voice. Ah, there was that fire again. "You knew very well of my inner turmoil, didn't you? You great brute."

"I had a vague notion," admitted the Bull.

"Vishante kaffas, you revelled in it and don't try to convince me otherwise."

"What's your point, Dorian? I backed off."

"That's exactly my point! You just stopped. Out of nowhere. Finally, I get comfortable with the idea that someone might actually _want_ me and then - "

Dorian slammed his fist against his forehead and shut his mouth so hard Bull heard teeth clack together. His meticulously crafted mask was slipping, crumbling around the edges like ancient pottery. "Forgive me, this isn't playing out at all the way I expected."

"Take a breath, big guy," Bull offered softly. "Try again. I'm listening."

"Of course people want me," he amended, voice low with important, "I am, as you noticed, gorgeous."

"I had, yes."

"No, stop talking. You'll ruin it."

Bull didn't ask what he was expected to ruin by speaking. He just shut his mouth. This was perhaps the longest one on one conversation he'd gotten out of the man. He didn't want to waste it. He would not squander the fact that Dorian finally wanted to open up and he chose to do that with Bull.

"I'm not a nice man," Dorian went on, "nor am I particularly honest, or steadfast. I'm indulgent to a fault, I'm vain and pampered and rude. I am everything Halward Pavus feared I might become the first time he caught me making eyes at a stable boy." He paused, as though the admission wearied him. Maybe it was the mention of his father. As far as Bull understood, that was still a very sore, open and festering wound. "I make myself up to be this untouchable, holier than thou being so that when, inevitably I am broken again the pieces are easier to pick up and put back together."

The words trailed off at the end, uncharacteristic of the chatty mage. Bull fights back the urge to say something, or even just touch. He was born with an instinctive need to fix people. It would be easy to close the distance between them and offer comfort. He really wanted to. However, Dorian exuded that he needed space. He needed to say his piece before the will and words left him.

"I've gotten so used to pariah-hood that I..." The mage cleared his throat and changed his pace. "And then you come along with your words and your touches and overall, invasive lack of respect for one's self-indulgent self-deprecation. You flirt like you've never heard of delicacy or subtelty. You detailed, _in front of the entire party,_  what you'd like to do to me. And I...I just...fuck."

In an instant, Bull knew Dorian was going to leave. The man was talking around in circles, which was what he did anyway, to be honest. But now it was frustrating, keeping Dorian from getting to a very important issue. He excelled at eluding the point. He was so used to it with Tevinter's convoluted politics. Now, however, it was important. And he couldn't just spit it out.

"I'm sorry," Dorian squeaked, eyes boring holes into the floor. Bull had less than a second to decide what to do. "Never mind. I shouldn't have wasted your time."

Just as Dorian spun around to open the door, Bull reached around him again and slid the lock into place. He held onto the bolt and watched to tension roll through the mage's back. It pulled Dorian's shoulders up to his ears and drew him into an anxious slouch. Bull hated that look on him. He wanted very much to correct it.

"Let's start with what you want," Bull prodded. Gently, he reached out and flattened his palm against Dorian's lower back - a support. The mage remained still, and his tension lessened a fraction. It was small, but it was a start. "Do you need help figuring it out, or just asking for it?"

Dorian took slow breaths, but Iron Bull peeked around to see that his eyes were squeezed shut.

"Yes," he replied at length. Accent short and clipped for the first time since Bull had met him.

"Which one, Dorian?" Bull pressed. Interestingly enough, Dorian's back relaxed a little. Bull smiled and put a little more command in his next words. "Answer the question."

"Asking," the mage finally replied, a small gasp.

"Can I help?"

"Maybe."

Bull moved his hand up to cover Dorian's bare shoulder. He squeezed, just enough to be insistent. "Straight answers," he demanded.

Dorian opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a little gasp. His face went an impossible shade of red for such a dark skin tone, but he didn't push Bull away. "Yes," he said again, low and hoarse.

"Do you want me?"

He wouldn't admit it, but Bull waited for this answer with bated breath. The seconds Dorian took to reply were ages long. Not only would it finally clear up some of that curious dissent the mage seemed to harbor against him. It felt like just what Dorian needed - to be able to express something like this without fear of repercussion.

"Yes," the mage whispered.

In his mind, Bull jumped up and down and pumped his fist in victory. Finally, after months of needling and harassing, finally he got a reaction out of the vint. It was more than that, though. Months ago, it would have been a simple victory. Now, Bull...cared.

"Tell me," he commanded softly, right against Dorian's ear.

"I want you," the mage replied, "I want _you,_ you great ox. Now please tell me you intend to do something about that other than stand there breathing in my ear."

The humor was meant to diffuse the tension. Dorian was a master at sarcasm, tongue sharper than the blade on his staff. It had the opposite effect. Bull just pressed in closer, hand clamping down on Dorian's hip now, lips brushing the sensitive crest of his ear. The mage bit back a sound, chewed on his lip to keep it all in. Now, that just wouldn't do.

"Take off your clothes, Dorian."

This time, the mage gasped out loud, dragging some sound into it as Bull released him and stepped back. He had faint shimmer of sweat prickling up on his brow. A shiver ran through him - the good kind, full-bodied. Bull thought, 'damn, if a couple orders get him this hot, I wonder how he'll react to actually fucking.'

Dorian slowly reached up and started to undo the buckles that bound him into his leathers. Bull took him by a gentle grip to his hips and guided him away from the door. With the mage standing in the center of his room, Bull stepped away and watched him peel off each clasp and buckle with calculated slowness. Halfway through the display, Dorian finally met his eye, cheeks flushed, gaze fiery. Bull sat down in his chair and enjoy the show. Every bit of newly exposed skin perked up Bull's arousal. He was half hard by the time Dorian had nothing left to remove but his small clothes.

Bull saw a hesitation flash over Dorian's face. "Stop for a moment," he said, giving Dorian a little respite. "Here's a bit of an exercise. I want you to touch yourself. Any way you like. And you can keep doing it, for as long as you can tell me what you want. Understand?"

"I do speak common," Dorian shot back. His bravado was lost in the minute quiver of his tone.

"Put your hand on your dick, Dorian."

The gruffness of that commanded had a desirable effect. Dorian huffed out a breath and spurred into motion. Carefully, he slid his hand into his smalls, cupping himself. He was erect, and Bull noticed a small wet spot on the fabric. The Bull grinned, and he didn't remotely try to hide his leer.

"Go on, little mage," he said, "stroke yourself, and tell me what you want."

"I...I..." With his fingers wrapped around his cock, Dorian lost some of his eloquence. That had been the point of course. Take away Dorian's flowery, bullshit words and let him think simpler, baser. "I want."

"Do you need help?" Bull offered, gently this time.

Lost for words, Dorian just nodded, teeth worrying into his bottom lip, eyes clenched shut. His blush spread down his neck and chest, a beautiful crimson.

Immediately, Bull got to his feet. He circled Dorian, until he stood completely behind him. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around the smaller man and pressed a heavy hand against his chest to pull the mage flush against him. Bull's other hand slipped down with Dorian's and wrapped around thin, human fingers to squeeze his cock gently.

"Fuck..." Dorian moaned.

"This okay?" Bull waited for Dorian's shaky nod before he pulled their hands together in one long, languid stroke. He flicked his thumb over the head, gathering precome to slick the way.

"Start simple, Dorian," he cooed into the mage's ear. "Do you want me to touch you?" Another jerky nod. "Good, now you just gotta say it out loud."

"I want you to touch me," Dorian groaned, voice gravelly and weighted with arousal.

"Perfect, that's perfect." Bull purred into Dorian's ear. "You want me to hold you?"

"I want you to hold me," Dorian repeated, obediently. Bull was starting to get high off Dorian's submission. The beautiful little mage gave himself over - after all these months of resisting and bickering and angst - with grace and ease. Finally, he started to let go, little by little. With every slow stroke to his cock, every muttered word in his ear, Dorian gave a little bit more of himself. Bull took all of him in.

They continued like that for a short time that felt like hours. Bull whispered what Dorian wanted - _want the contact?, my lips?, tongue?_ \- and had Dorian say it all out loud. Just simple things, easy things that Dorian didn't have to worry about. They could get more in depth later, when Dorian was in complete possession of his faculties again. For now, Bull focused on small things, vanilla things, but he made Dorian speak up. _'Louder for me, perfect; a little bit more; say it like you mean it, my pretty mage.'_  Each time, Dorian grew more desperate. His limbs shook, voice cracking, cock throbbing. Bull felt him coming apart at the seams. He fucking loved it.

"That's it, my beautiful man," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me. Do you want to come?"

"I want to come," Dorian practically shouted. He sounded wrecked, desperation seeping through the cracks. "Oh fuck, I want to come! Please, Bull. Please, please, let me - make me come!"

Bull held him tighter around the chest and smiled. "You are fucking gorgeous," he stated, pulling his fingers and the mage's across that beautiful, leaking cock. "And you beg so pretty. Come for me, that's it." He quickened his pace dragging his thumb over the head and twisting his wrist sharply as he came back down.

Dorian didn't last much longer. "Maker's fuckin-ah! Shit!" He gasped and cried out through his orgasm. Clinging to Bull's arm around him, thrusting his hips in choppy, aborted movements to drag out every pulse of pleasure. Once he'd sufficiently soiled his small clothes, he collapsed back against Bull, legs weak, head lolling onto his shoulder.

"That's it," Bull coaxed him through it with a steady stream of praise. "Perfect, Dorian. Absolutely stunning. So fucking good, so good. I got you, it's okay."

Bull didn't stop stroking him until Dorian flinched from discomfort. He pulled his hand free and wrapped that arm around Dorian's knees. In an easy, fluid motion, Bull scooped Dorian up. The mage immediately buried his face into Bull's shoulder. The bed was only a few short steps away, but the Bull cherished the feeling of Dorian gathered in his arms. He didn't want to put the mage down. If only he could take Dorian like this in his arms all the time, just hold him, tender and exhausted, against his chest. Reluctantly, he laid Dorian out on the mattress and dug in his bedside table for something to wipe off with.

"Don't...don't ever...ever tell anyone that you carried me," Dorian stammered out as he came back to himself. "I will light your arse on fire if you do."

"Yeah, yeah," Bull teased. "You're secret is safe with me, tough guy."

With care, Bull dragged Dorian's smalls down his legs. He found a soft cloth and used it to brush away the remnants of Dorian's seed on his thighs and hand. He wiped his own hand off and dropped it on the floor. As he finished up with the cleaning, he noticed Dorian's eyes on him, questioning. He met the uncertain gaze with an easy smile and reclined on the bed beside him.

"Something on your mind?" he inquired.

"Just wondering," Dorian began, eyes peering ever downward alone Bull's considerable form. "Do you...do you want me to return the favor?"

"Do you want to?"

Dorian flushed. Scant minutes ago, dirty phrases like that one in his ear and he came in his smalls because of it. No one had made him come in his smalls like that. _Ever._  "Yes," he decided. "I'm very talented with my mouth. I would like to show off a little for you."

"I don't doubt that, and I'm sure it will be a fine show. But there's a couple things I'd like to discuss first, once you catch your breath."

"What sort of things?" Dorian asked, beginning to sit up.

One hand on the mage's chest, Bull shoved him back down and pinned him to the mattress. "Catch your breath first," he insisted. "Just limits and stuff. How far you want to go with this."

"Hopefully far enough for you to fuck me," Dorian huffed, but there was a smile on his lips.

"We'll get there, little mage," Bull mused. "Don't you worry one bit."


	2. Do You Want More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That part two I accidentally promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I'm not even going to try to explain myself. I am a purveyor of shameless smut, I guess. I even tried to write something smut free in between this one and the first one, but it just... belgh. I wanted to write The Conversation, where Bull has this deep heart to hear about limits and rules and watchwords and I started writing it and went 'everyone fucking writes this I hate it.' I deleted that and wrote sex instead. Forgive me. Just assume our boys already had that conversation.
> 
> Also, apologies for utterly destroying Latin in my attempt at Tevene. I'll try to provide translations below but what Dorian says doesn't really mean...anything? Sorry.

The Iron Bull had, by far, the largest cock Dorian had ever seen. And he had seen them in all the shapes and sizes Tevinter had to offer. When Bull finally rid himself of those garish circus tents he called pants, Dorian had to take a moment to fully comprehend what he'd gotten himself into. Bull was _huge._ It hadn't felt that big pressed against his hip earlier. For several, long moments, Dorian just stared. From base to tip, Bull's cock was probably nine or ten inches - considerable, but not necessarily impressive on it's own. However, it seemed nearly as thick around as Dorian's forearm. It made sense, given that the Qunari was a generous two feet taller than the average human. Still, he was intimidating. The longer Dorian stared, the more he considered the logistics of this, what _that cock_ might feel like inside of him.  
  
Even as he wrapped his lips around that heavy head, Dorian was amazed. His jaw would likely hurt by the end of this, but from the taste of Bull, the weight of him, Dorian figured it would be well worth it. He set to work, mouthing over the shaft, running fingers and tongue over soft flesh as he familiarized himself with Bull's dick.  
  
Just a few seconds in, Dorian started to get comfortable. Which meant of course, Bull had to up the stakes. If the mage learned anything tonight it would be that the Iron Bull loved to be in control. Typically, Dorian was fine with this. He had a submissive streak the length of Thedas twice over. Bull pulled his hands away and made him lose his balance. Those hands were pulled, his arms twisted around so that Bull held both wrists easily behind his back with one great hand. Dorian might have fallen over without the bracing weight of Bull's grasp. Keening, he swirled his tongue along the ridge that lined Bull's head.  
  
"Fuck," murmured the Bull. "You like that, don't you?"  
  
_Obviously,_ Dorian's mind supplied. He leveled a sharp gaze up to Bull's face, but the man just grinned down at him.  
  
With a chuckle, Bull stroked his free hand down the side of Dorian's face. He pressed his thumb into the stretched cheek that covered his cock. At Dorian's responding goan, Bull carded his fingers through the black hair on the mage's head.  
  
"I want to learn everything that you like," he rumbled. "You're so beautiful, right here, like this. I could tie you up, keep you like this. Rope around your arms, and around your thighs and calves and ankles. Keep you on your knees for me, ready to take my cock."  
  
Dorian, for all the experience with the perverse he thought he had, flushed to the very tips of his ears. He whimpered at the thought of himself trussed up for Bull's pleasure. He could see it in his head - where the rope would go, how it would hold him down and open. His body filled, like a dam burst deep inside him; heat surged through his core, down his legs, into his dick. In all his time in conservative Tevinter he hadn't been able to truly explore being bound - too dangerous to trust one of his countrymen with that. Now that Bull said it out loud, however, he needed it, craved it. In this moment, for Bull, Dorian would be chained and tortured. He would be had any conceivable way to hear Bull call him beautiful.  
  
"You really do like it," Bull said again, sounding shocked. He dragged his fingers over Dorian's heated skin, down his sides and back, leaving trails of powerful shivers and quakes rolling through Dorian's muscles.  
  
As a positive response, Dorian pushed his mouth down as far as he could. He felt the tip press against the back of his throat, and then swallowed and sucked, slurping noisily around the shaft before pulling back. He looked up again, half because he knew how good that felt, and the other for approval.  
  
Bull's head fell back, horn clacking soundly against the wall. His blunted nails dug into Dorian's wrists and the fleshy part of his hip. "Shit..." groaned the Bull. "You're really getting off on this."  
  
As with everything Bull had said tonight, that was true. Dorian completely enjoyed giving head. He felt at ease on his knees, legs spread, with his mouth full. He knew how he looked, thoroughly debased, covered in spit and come, dribbling down his chin. For all his false bravado, this was one area where his confidence was entirely justified. Years of drunken fumbles and shadowed trysts in closets and side rooms; he used those youthful dalliances to train himself. While few others of his countrymen were willing to submit to this shameful act, Dorian thrived in it. He learned the tricks his tongue could do, and how to use just enough pressure from his teeth. Above all, his favorite trick was relaxing his tongue and throat and sinking down, sheathing thick flesh in his throat until he was dizzy with it. He wanted to do it to Bull, but...Void take him, he didn't think it was possible.  
  
"Keep your arms like this," Bull ordered suddenly. His sharp tone startled Dorian out of his thoughts.  
  
Immediately, the mage obeyed, curling his fingers around opposite elbows to hold himself still. He couldn't keep the curiosity from his eyes however. Suddenly self-conscious, he raised up, sliding off of Bull's cock with a lewd pop. He meant to ask for clarification on what changed, why Bull released him. The irrational part of his mind feared rejection - _what had he done wrong? was he not good enough? did Bull not want to touch him?_  - He panicked, a powerful need to fix this yet he didn't know how. He wanted to ask.  
  
However, before he could speak, Bull seized him by the hair in a firm grasp and shoved one thick finger between his lips. "You think too loud, pretty one," Bull chided, playfully.  
  
"Well excuse me," Dorian began to say. He slurred the first two syllables around the digit before Bull pressed down on his tongue and slid in. He poked Dorian's throat. Effectively shut up, Dorian gagged, eyes welling with tears as he tried to swallow around the invasion of Bull's finger in his throat.  
  
"That's it," Bull encouraged gently, as he thrust his finger down as far as he could reach. "Good boy."  
  
Dorian looked into Bull's eye through damp lashes. He couldn't breathe. Bull's finger wasn't anything like an erect dick, but it was still large and long and shoved just far enough to choke him. That thought alone amazed him. The sheer size of his bed partner - that just that one finger could reach into and down his throat. His chest spasmed and his throat convulsed, teeth digging into Bull's knuckles for a moment, when the mage thought it was too much.  
  
Bull pulled back swiftly, heaving an amorous sigh at the sounds he drew from Dorian's throat. The mage coughed, and spat, sucking a shaky breath to compensate for his light head. Still eager to please, he ran his tongue flat over the length of Bull's finger as it withdrew.   
  
"You're _huge,_ " he croaked out, broken voice full of awe, "how in the - "  
  
Once more, Bull didn't allow him time to speak, or think, or breathe. He pushed back in, two fingers this time. Dorian's throat made this wet, gurgling sound as they went in - it was filthy, that sound. His face went a deeper shade of scarlet than ever, felt like he'd fallen asleep on hot coals. Bull pushed into him, down into his throat again and Dorian couldn't hope to keep his eyes open. Tears ran freely down his face now, as Bull fucked him with his hand, steady, even thrusts that had him writhing for air and gagging for more.  
  
Between his legs, Dorian felt his cock throbbing - untouched, yet achingly hard.  
  
"So good," the Bull was muttering. Praise fell from his lips in little gasps that left Dorian dizzy - more than just air loss. "Perfect for me, fuck...Dorian, you have a whore's mouth." He yanked his hand out of the mage's mouth, smirking at Dorian's resulting sob. "I bet you _could_ take me down your throat," he went on, like he was fascinated and proud. He ran spit-slick fingers over the mage's chest.  
  
Dorian was wrecked, body convulsing over the Qunari's lap. He was lost to anything outside of this moment, his spinning head, Bull's fingers pinching his nipples. He groaned at those words, trying to nod despite the grip on his hair. He wanted it. He couldn't think of anything in his life that he wanted more than Bull's cock down his throat. His nails dug into the skin of his elbows as he writhed. "Puh- please..."  
  
"You want that, precious?" Bull was teasing him. Dorian didn't even mind, he just nodded, sloppily. "Ask for it. Tell me what you want."  
  
"Fuck," coughed the mage, squinting up at Bull. His eyes burned from tears and he sincerely hoped he didn't have snot running out of his nose. "I want it."  
  
"Want what?"  
  
"Your cock," Dorian whined, voice loud, utterly destroyed to his own ears. "Please, I want your cock. Down my throat, please. Fuck, please, Bull. Kaffas, preacipitas me, fasta vass, placet, placet, placet! Pedica me- iugulo! Placet..."  
  
Bull groaned, and it rumbled low and predatory in his chest. The entire room pulsed with it. Dorian went blessedly silent as Bull pushed him down.  
  


* * *

  
Some time later - Dorian had lost all capacity for silly things like minutes and hours - his jaw ached, his throat burned and he yearned for more. Bull didn't push him, didn't force his head down or thrust up into his throat. Much as the idea made Dorian's tender bits quiver, it was probably best. Slicked with something that escaped the mage's current realm of understanding, Bull's finger teased his hole. Dorian remained pinned, caught between Bull's great hand at his arse and massive cock in his mouth. Two points of interest, narrowing Dorian's focus to delicious debauchery. The fact that Bull's reach stretched over the full length of Dorian's upper body sent pleased shivers up and down his arched spine.  
  
An even cadence of decadent filth streamed from Bull's lips all the while. "...taking it so well," he rumbled, "look at you. So beautiful, wrapped around my cock like this. Fuck, Dorian..." He thrust his finger, just the tip slipping easily past the tight muscle. Dorian sobbed and moaned simultaneously. "You're perfect, fucking beautiful man. Your mouth, your ass..."  
  
The mage rode this high like a dandelion seed in a tempest. He shook with exertion and lust and need. He _needed_ so completely, it filled him to bursting. His fingernails dug angry, red marks into his arms, but he endeavored to keep his arms in place. Bull mentioned it - _how good you are, staying still for me, so eager to please_ \- and Dorian grasped that praise like a lifeline. He loved it. However, there was the significant matter of his neglected erection. He'd already come once, but that felt like ages ago. It was all Dorian could do to keep gripping his arms and not just let go and stroke himself to completion.  
  
Then, Bull's finger slid in deeper. Dorian gasped, wrenching his head up. He let out a flat, bellowing whine. "Please," he sobbed. Words came easy when he didn't have to think about them - all that existed was his aching need and Bull's beautiful, fucking...everything. He knew he need only ask and Bull would give him what he needed - Bull would take care of him. "Please, fuck, I need to come. I need it, Bull- please- fuck- Mak- _vishante kaffas_ , you fucking bastard!"  
  
Bull pulled his hand away, and ran his other fingers through Dorian's hair. "Shhh," he breathed, with soothing strokes down the mage's neck and shoulders.  
  
"You don't get to come again until I do," the Qunari went on, "that's only fair, right? My greedy little man."  
  
Dorian could only manage a nod, and a dismayed sob. After all, his goal this entire time had been Bull's orgasm. He was used to finishing his partners off by now. "Please," he begged again, "Bull, please, I- I need..."  
  
As if reading his mind, Bull trailed his clean hand down to Dorian's arms and gripped them again. "It's okay," Bull muttered gently, "it's okay, my pretty mage. I've got you. You're doing so perfectly. A perfect mess I've made of you. Beautiful."  
  
"Bull..." Dorian hissed, head spinning with the praise.  
  
The warrior picked Dorian up by the chin, slicking his skin with oil. Once more, he guided Dorian's mouth onto his member. Immediately, the mage suckled at the head, running his tongue over and pressing it into the slit. Bull's fist wrapped around his shaft and pumped in sure, firm strokes, eased by shimmering oil.  
  
"Shit...yessss," Bull sighed as his climax rolled over him. Splashes of hot fluid filled Dorian's mouth, spilled down his chin. He tried to swallow as much as he could, relishing in, not so much the taste but the fact that it was Bull's. As though Bull gave him some precious gift in the full expression of his pleasure.  
  
If Dorian drowned in it, he would be fine with that.  
  
What a way to go.  
  


* * *

  
"Placet," Dorian cried. He was on his back now, hands pinned to the blankets at the foot of the bed. Bull moved above him, two massive fingers thrusting into his body, slick with oil and come. Common words fled the mage as raw heat dragged from him base pleas. "Placet, Rexama meo- venhedis..."  
  
"Sh, sh, shhhh..." Bull released hands to pet Dorian's face. "Let go, pretty one. Let me give you what you want. I want to give you everything you need."  
  
Dorian gasped, hips rolling unsteadily to press himself down on Bull's thrusting hand. He whimpered softly. "Ti me cruciando," he snapped.  
  
"No I'm not," Bull chuckled as his fingers ghosted down over Dorian's excessively sensitive flesh. "I'm fucking you. I'm thoroughly enjoying you, and those noises you're making...fuck, Dorian - "  
  
Hearing his name at a time like this, Dorian jerked beyond his control. Searing, red-hot pleasure spiked through him. Hands flailed and flung out, gripping Bull by the horns as the great man finally - _finally_ \- wrapped thick fingers around his weeping cock. "F-fut- kaffas, placet..." Dorian writhed into every touch granted him. He was no longer aware of the words that dropped from his tongue. "Perfodio me, placet, erus meo."  
  
"Fuck," said the Bull, "the shit that comes out of your mouth." He pulled his tight grasp over Dorian's cock, heavy even drags that had the mage squirming for more. "Relax, my beautiful man."  
  
Bull moved his fingers deeper, sliding into Dorian's hole to the very last knuckle now. That alone was like being fucked by a cock. Dorian felt stretched tight and full. The blunted tips of those fingers pressed against that tender nerve inside of him, and the mage saw stars. He shouted, voice hoarse and sore, but he couldn't keep it in. Bull didn't relent, pressing and rubbing that spot over and over. Dorian could no longer tell if he was struggling for more or to escape the overwhelming onslaught wracking his body. He knew he was babbling now, pleading in broken Tevene phrases that Bull somehow understood. Bull managed to comprehend exactly what Dorian wanted and needed, even if the mage only breathed out fractured parts of sentences and pleas.  
  
"That's it," Bull murmured, "that's perfect. Come for me, beautiful. Come for me, Dorian."  
  
In an instant, the pressure built up, his head spun and the fragile barriers inside him shattered. Dorian screamed, at the top of his lungs, as finally, finally his body achieved completion. The force of his orgasm slammed him, like ocean tides. He might have been crying, some other, distant him. All he could feel for blessed, endless moments, was pleasure thrumming through him and Bull petting him through it.  
  
"Breathe, Dorian," someone said, above him. The tide around him washed away, faded from his ears and eyes so he could see Bull. "That's it, I've got you. Breathe."  
  
Dorian felt the sticky dryness of tear tracks on his cheeks. He quivered and sucked in a deep gasp. His head was light and his body sated. He looked up at Bull and saw nothing short of reverence in his eye. Too strung out to feel self-conscious, Dorian just smiled.  
  
"You with me, Dorian?"  
  
The mage nodded slowly, lips curled into a contented grin. He was quickly relaxing, could feel the tempting lull of sleep calling his name. His eyes fluttered shut.  
  
"Hey, that's not fair," Bull teased, "wake up."  
  
"M'wake," Dorian croaked. The sound of his voice reached his ears. Eyes snapping open, he looked up at Bull. "I sound like a toad." Abruptly, he clapped a hand over his mouth and tried to roll away.  
  
Bull slipped his fingers free and wiped them on the blankets. Dorian's body shivered below him at the sensation of sudden emptiness. The mage groaned despite himself and moved his hand to cover his entire face.  
  
"You sound fine," Bull told him, gently. "Like you deep-throated my cock for an hour, but fine."  
  
"Shut up," Dorian snapped, but the heat was lost, muffled behind his hand.  
  
Bull laughed, low and true and kind. He urge Dorian around onto his back again with soft, coaxing touches. Slowly, he pulled the hand from Dorian's face. "Would you mind if I kissed you?" He asked.  
  
Absurdly, Dorian realised he hadn't thought of that. It seemed ridiculous that he lay here, so absolutely debauched, and they hadn't even kissed once through their time together. That Bull thought to ask instead of just taking... He took several moments to truly consider if he wanted to be kissed - if this was the sort of situation where that behavior was welcome. After, it was just sex; _amazing, mind-blowing sex._ what significance would a kiss have now? Did Bull think Dorian expected it? However, he hadn't said it like he wanted to cater to the mage's whim. _Would you mind,_ he'd said.  
  
Slightly confused, Dorian shook his head. "Please do," he managed to say, with his ruined, gravelly tone.  
  
Bull' lips were surprisingly warm, soft and gentle. He cupped the side of Dorian's face with sticky, slick fingers, but the mage hardly noticed. He sunk easily into the kiss, their first. Bull was attentive and thorough, running tongue and lips and teeth over Dorian's until - so caught up in sensation - the mage went lax. He submitted easily to the insistent prodding, let his mouth fall open so Bull could explore his lips and teeth and tongue. It felt nice. Being kissed, rather than actively participating. Bull had no expectations of him. This was Dorian's reward, in a way, for doing so well. To lay passive and accept Bull's ministrations, no pressure.  
  
"Beautiful," said the Bull against Dorian's mouth, "you are perfect."  
  
"I'm aware," Dorian teased.  
  
Bull pulled back, just slightly, mere centimeters between them. "How long do you need?"  
  
"I beg your pardon?" Dorian stifled his amazement because surely this great man was not asking what Dorian thought he was asking.  
  
"To go again," Bull clarified.  
  
He was, he actually was asking that. Dorian just stared for a few beats. "I've never before, in my life, come twice in one day," he stated, "I don't think a third is physically possible."  
  
"That's a tragedy," Bull rumbled, leaning down to press tender kisses to Dorian's neck. "I, however, do not plan to neglect you. You are so pretty when you come, so fucked out and beautiful. Three times a night at least."  
  
Dorian's eyes slipped shut and his whole body shivered. "Well, don't think I'm going to stop you trying," he gasped. "Whichever of us is proven wrong, I'm bound to enjoy it."  
  
"Remember what to say if you want to stop?"  
  
"Katoh," Dorian confirmed.  
  
"Perfect."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> preacipitas me : literally "destroy me," but I'm using it as a kind of slang for "fuck me," or "wreck me."  
> placet : Honestly, chose a random version of 'please' from google translate. In my head, it sounds like a shortening of "if it pleases you," though.  
> Pedica me- iugulo : "fuck me- in my throat" Or that's what it's supposed to mean. O.o  
> Rexama meo : "my beloved king" Because Dorian is a dramatic little bastard.  
> F-fut- kaffas, placet... : felt I should explain this, he's trying to say "fuck me" but it won't come out.  
> Ti me cruciando : "you're torturing me" I just fucked around with that. I don't know what it actually says in Latin ^_^  
> Perfodio me, placet, erus meo : "pierce me, please, my lord." Erus is closer to "owner" which is why I liked it.
> 
> So I don't speak Latin - even remotely - but I like the way Tevene sounds with Latin roots. Everything I used, I took from translate and fucked it around. Apologies to any language experts out there.


	3. Like a Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so let me explain. That last thing I posted kept nagging at me and I reread it again and again trying to figure out why. I discovered I hated it. It didn't seem done, and I felt like I cheated you lovely readers. So I took it down to expand it. Instead, and as a bribe for all you beautiful people to accept my sincerest apologies, have some angsty porn.
> 
> It's another one of those phone jobs, written and posted at work. Any and all typos are my own as I still don't have a beta.
> 
> Much love!  
> Enjoy!

At a time like this, he's not sure why he thinks of Rilienus. More accurately, he thinks of that last night with Rilienus. It makes a bit of sense in the single fact that Rilienus fucked him that night. All at once, Dorian is lost in the memory. Rilienus' hand around his throat, hips slapping against his ass, teeth sinking into his shoulder. This isn't a longing sort of divergence in thought. This isn't the sort of distraction that results in accidentally shouting the wrong name out in pleasure as one orgasms. Dorian zeros in on the procession of that night compared to being here, right now - with Bull.

Rilienus had acted strange all through dinner. Then, he'd pushed Dorian down without any preamble, straight to sex. It was harsh, stilted...guilty. Dorian, being young and hopeless and in love, had ignored every single warning sign. Even as Rilienus choked him until his vision whited out and fucked into him ruthlessly. He told himself to enjoy it, jerked himself off to Rilienus' thrusts, and desperately tried to make it okay. Afterward, Rilienus told him about his wedding and Dorian fought the urge to be sick on the other man's shoes.

"But...we were going to run away, escape this place," he'd protested weakly, "I love you."

"Shut up, Dorian," Rilienus had teased. He sounded light, but for the sour tinge to his smile. "You knew that was all a fantasy. It's time to grow up."

"A fantasy?"

Rilienus looked him right in the eye. "That's what you were. A diversion. A fuck, a conquest."

Dorian cannot fathom why he thinks of this now. It startles him, how clearly those words ring in his ear, even as Bull moves over him. He's pinned, flat on Bull's bed, half-hard cock trapped between the sheets and his belly. Bull's, huge and hard again, is pressed inside of him - short, easy thrusts, the barest movements as Dorian adjusts to the intrusion. Suddenly, the rasp of Bull's pleased moans is distant and all he can hear is echoes, the past creeping into the present. _A fuck, a conquest._ He stiffens immediately, trying to fight the rush of anxiety.

_And as you gripped my horns..._

No, not that.

_I would..._

That's not that same, not hardly.

_I. would. conquer. you._

Dorian gasps, fingers burying themselves into the blanket. It's easy to pretend that sound came from Bull, brushing against his prostate. Maybe part of it came from that. He's in a strange position, flat on his front with his legs spread wide. And Bull is above him, fucking slowly into him - and the angle is perfect. The feeling is perfect, all the right pressures. Bull's hands on his upper arms, hips against his ass, every short thrust that drags heavy against that sweet spot. Dorian should be losing himself, drunk on sensation and amazement that his cock is already hardening again.

Yet, he thinks of Rilienus.

Fuck.

He whimpers, hears it before the sound registers as his own. It's mostly muffled in the mattress. He doesn't want to be a conquest, for once. He doesn't want to be a dalliance, a pleasant distraction - something to be fucked and bragged about later, and then discarded. He thinks on Rilienus' silence that last night, the way sex had felt like something shameful for the first time in a long time. It was like Rilienus was punishing him for his love.

Carefully, Dorian turns his head, freeing his mouth from the bed clothes. He can taste the watchword on his tongue, as he tries one final time to push the bad memories from his mind - to make himself stop fucking _thinking_ so he can just feel. He's failing.

"Dorian?" Bull's tone is soft against his ear. His considerable weight stills, balanced above Dorian's back as he registers something amiss. "You still with me, Big Guy?"

Which is stupid, and doesn't make any sense. Of course Dorian's here. He put himself here because he'd wanted it. Bull spoke of conquering him and Dorian came running, eager to allow himself release - to be fucked, have pleasure, and to walk away, no strings attached. Then he goes and thinks about that asshole, Rilienus, and he just...can't.

"Hey, I need you to say something, Dorian." Then there's Bull, actually giving a shit. Every man Dorian has ever had before, every single one brought him down to a certain level of debasement. He's used to it. In Tevinter, sex was power play - which Dorian could get behind completely. He likes it rough, he likes it messy, he even likes being degraded to a degree. It's easy to be a slut if all you have to do is bend over for a pompous bastard and tell him how good he feels. But the discomfort usually comes after. It's not enough to outweigh the pleasure. Dorian loves sex. Afterward is a necessary evil: awkward dressing, avoiding eye contact, going separate ways.

It hits Dorian like an inland tsunami, and he understands. Rilienus and Bull. Baring that awful 'last night' together, Rilienus didn't give him Afterward. He was the first man with which Dorian cuddled. He found he's very fond of it.

Bull had brought him off twice already - astounding as that is - and he's going for a third. Instead of Afterward, Bull had petted him, cleaned his body, kissed him, whispered to him sweet, meaningless words of praise and adoration. Bull had also discussed with him, in depth, the rules and limits and intentions of this...thing they were doing. He asked what Dorian wanted, what he might need; he stated things he might do or try. Most important of all, though, he'd given Dorian an out. _If ever you are with me and it becomes too much, you feel uncomfortable or unsafe for any reason, you say katoh. Katoh and I stop._ Dorian has never had that kind of power over his lovers before.

"Dorian?" Bull prods. His tone is more concerned now, and it brings Dorian back.

"Fuck me," Dorian whispers, desperation lacing his breath. Bull has released his arms, so he reaches back. It's a bit of a stretch and a blind grab, but he manages to snag the tip of Bull's horn and tug. "Fuck me, please. Don't stop."

"Okay," Bull replies. He presses a gentle kiss to the back of Dorian's head. "First, I want to move you. Is that alright?"

Dorian nods and allows Bull to pry his fingers off of his horn. He's thinking again, as Bull adjusts. He reels from the realization that Bull's insistent conversation about boundaries hadn't been to instill Dorian's submission. In making everything clear, putting everything out in the open - with painstaking and meticulous attention to detail - Bull made sure that he and Dorian were on the same level. Everything Bull did after that initial encounter was something Dorian mentioned or suggested or hinted at. Even joking. Bull had noted everything and delivered it. This isn't fucking the way Dorian understood it - and it definitely isn't _conquest_.

This is lovemaking.

Two people being intimate with each other. Being equal. While Dorian serves Bull with his submission, Bull returns that service with giving Dorian what he asked for, what he wanted. Only vaguely aware of the change in position, Dorian gives a low, needy moan as Bull sinks even deeper into him.

* * *

Bull picks the mage up by his hips and a hand on his chest. With Dorian pressed against him, he shifts his weight and manages to stay buried inside of Dorian's perfect body. He gets to his knees, then sits back, using one hand to arrange Dorian's legs so he's straddled across Bull's thighs, back to chest. The position itself is slightly ridiculous, but it forces his cock deeper. He knows it was a good move by the way Dorian shudders and groans.

"Fuck!" Dorian shouts, once Bull starts to move again.

"That's it. Does it feel good?" Bull asks because for a moment there, he'd been afraid. Dorian was so still and quiet. Bull was a few seconds away from ending it there, whether or not Dorian needed to use his watchword. Now, he seeks reassurance. "Tell me, pretty mage. Tell me how it feels."

"Fuck," Dorian says again, sounding desperate and wrecked. His breath catches with the same rhythmic pulsing as Bull's hips beneath him. "Fuck, Bull. S'good...please, just- just like that, so fucking- ah! good. _Please!_ "

Bull sees Dorian's hand go for his cock, and he stops it. He takes both of Dorian's wrists and guides them up. While he means to pin them, one over the other behind the mage's head or neck, he concedes when Dorian reaches for his horns instead. With a soft, breathless chuckle, he thrusts a little harder.

"Don't move your hands unless I tell you to, alright?" When Dorian just nods, Bull hesitates. He can't help it, he needs to be sure. "Words, Dorian. Do you understand?"

The mage _keens_ , rocking his hips to make up for Bull's stillness. "I- I understand," he whimpers, "I won't move my hands, just _please..._ " He tries to move, ride Bull's lap, and the sight is utterly magnificent. With his hands gripping Bull's horns, Dorian has to arch his back, just slightly. The size difference between them keeps Dorian's knees from actually touching the bed beside Bull's massive thighs, so he can't manage enough leverage to fuck himself properly - though not for lack of trying. His muscles in his arms and chest and thighs are strung so tight, they look like they could snap under the strain.

Bull presses one large hand against Dorian's belly, low enough that it almost brushes his cock. He clamps down, stilling Dorian's movements. His lips curl into a grin as Dorian actually sobs above him. Experimentally, he pulls himself out about halfway, an easy glide now that Dorian has finally relaxed, and then shoves back in as hard as he can manage. Dorian loses it on a low cry, body going slack but for the grip on Bull's horns.

"That's it, beautiful." Bull coos into his ear. "This what you want?" He repeats the movement, eliciting a similar response.

"Yes! Oh please, Bull. Fuck me just like that." Dorian isn't stuck inside himself anymore, that much is obvious. He writhes on top of Bull - not struggling, just reacting as the warrior strives to hit his prostate with every upward thrust. Aside from that, he lets himself be fucked. It's similar to the way he'd laid back earlier and let Bull kiss him. "Kaffas, Bull. _Harder, fucking please_."

Truly, how could Bull say no to that?

Stirred on by every broken cry that spills from Dorian's kiss-bruised mouth, the Bull moves with purpose now. They've been at this for ages, it is long since past dark. After his first orgasm, Bull could go pretty much all night, fuck Dorian into a beautiful, messy pulp of blissed-out mage. Except that Dorian is so insistent, and frustratingly filthy. Bull can feel the end approaching fast, building up low in his gut, hot pressure that increases with every sound Dorian makes.

For his part, the mage is hollering and crying out like he's being beaten to death. _La petite mort_ , Bull suddenly thinks. His face slackens and he loses a bit of rhythm. Orlesians call orgasms 'little deaths.' Bull has never seen that concept so beautifully expressed as with Dorian grunting and crying out his name, over and over.

"Bull, Bull...Bull! Fuck, Bull, please!..."

He can't hold out anymore. Abruptly, he grips Dorian's cock, which is hard and leaking and throbbing against Bull's hand. Using firm, quick strokes, Bull drags Dorian back down to wordlessness. The mage lets out a steady stream of punctuated cries and tugs on Bull's horns. His neck will no doubt ache later, once the adrenaline fades, but right now Bull thinks it's worth it. Just to see Dorian struggling so hard to be good.

For a few moments, quick and endless, Bull feels stuck. Like he's falling, but he knows he will never meet the ground. He thinks that maybe they will go on like this forever, rutting and sweating and moaning. It wouldn't be so bad, to be trapped in tortuous pleasure with Dorian.

Then the line breaks. Dorian's body tenses and relaxes over and over as his third orgasm of the night rocks over him. His cock spits out a weak stream of semen, but Dorian is still reeling for what feels like hours. Bull fucks him through it, pushing in and out of Dorian's tightening body, chasing his own little death. He swears that he can feel Dorian's aftershocks, massive and quaking, almost like a string of multiple climaxes.

"So. Fucking. Beautiful," he grits out through his teeth, amazement light and floaty on his tongue. He drops them forward now, stretched over the bed, desperate for his own release. Bracing himself up and Dorian with that hand on his belly, Bull ruts against the mage as hard as he can. When he finally achieves, pulsing hot and deep into Dorian's body, his vision goes blurry.

* * *

Bull comes back to himself quickly, dropping to the side so he doesn't crush his pretty mage. He notices something off, the way he had before when Dorian went silent. This time, Bull feels him shivering against his chest, and he hears the quiet percussion of sobs muffled into the bed.

Carefully, Bull drags his hand up and down Dorian's back, slow, easy strokes. It's not the first time he's had someone cry like this after sex. Hell, Dorian was a sobbing wreck in their second round. This feels a little different than that. This time, it seems more like catharsis than a by-product of intense pleasure.

"Dorian?" Bull tries, voice soft.

"I'm fine," the man states, twisting a little so that he can turn his head to the side. Loose from Bull's horns, Dorian's hands clutch the sheet beneath him, on either side of his head. It gives him a startling appearance of vulnerability. That and his tears, running steadily down his face. "I'm sorry."

"Shhh, don't apologize," Bull mutters. His hand slips up to thread through Dorian's hair. "You're okay, Dorian. You're safe here, remember?"

Still out of breath, Dorian just nods. His eyes are red and wet, and his body is wracked with exhaustion. Bull won't try to guess at what went through Dorian's mind earlier. And he definitely won't try to force a conversation about it. Whatever it was, Dorian seems better now, like he had worked through it on his own, or maybe with the aid of Bull's intimacy. The man opens his mouth to say something, then decides better of it. He wipes his face on the bed and takes several steadying breaths.

"Would you really...stop?" The question comes out of the blue, and Bull is rather sidelined by it. Dorian just looks up at him, eyes earnest. "If I said that word, you would stop...no questions? No matter what we were doing?"

Bull's gut tightens. "Yes," he says, simply.

Dorian just sort of gapes at him. "Oh," he utters. He shakes a hand free from the sheet and presses it against Bull's chest. "Good... And that...open door policy?"

"You can come back any time you want." Dorian nods, but doesn't meet his eye. Bull thinks he knows why. "Hey, Big Guy, don't hold out on me. If there's something you want to say, tell me. I'm listening."

Dorian stares blankly at Bull's chest and shakes his head. "Another time, perhaps," he says.

Bull lets it go and they fall silent. The air between them is comfortable, a quaint understanding that nothing needs to be said. Honestly, it surprises Bull, as he works the sheet out from under their bodies. Dorian isn't unnecessarily loud, but he is the type of man to fill a silence. He enjoys the sound of his own voice. That he's quiet now, without the stiffness of expectation or doubt, Bull finds that fact very reassuring. He uses the soiled sheet to brush away sweat and oil and come from Dorian's body. He runs his fingers over the quivering muscles of Dorian's back, savoring the lack of tension there. Tossing the sheet into the corner of the room, he lays down on the bare mattress, beside the mage.

Dorian hasn't moved beyond an easy sigh as Bull cleaned him. His eyes are closed, but he's not asleep. Bull continues to stroke his skin, worshipping the tan-brown planes of naked flesh. "You're perfect."

Dorian cracks one eye open and looks up without turning his head. "You keep saying that," he mutters. At first he sounds astounded, breathless. Then with a smirk, he finds his confidence once more. "As if I didn't already know it."

Bull smiles back at him, hand gliding lower, down to the mage's ass and legs to continue his ministrations. "You should see your face," he enthuses.

Dorian groans in mock dismay. "I'd rather not, if it's all the same. I'm sure I am a complete mess. Kohl and shimmer powder smeared everywhere."

It's true. He has long trails of black down his cheeks and in the corners of his eyes. "Perfect," Bull insists.

Dorian grimaces and drags his arm over his face in an attempt to clean up. It comes away wet and smeared with make up. He heaves a sigh and plops back down in defeat.

Bull slides his hand into Dorian's dark hair and pulls it with a light grip. Just enough to lift Dorian's head back up and look at him, eye to eye. "I think next time, I want to find a large mirror," he says, even and slow, "and I want to fuck you in front of it. Show you exactly how perfect it is. How good you look fucked out and wrecked."

Dorian gasps, a shiver running through him. The low, delicious threat in Bull's tone goes straight to his groin. "If you think I'm going to get it up again, you're out of your mind," he manages, breathy.

"Nah," Bull concedes. He sets the man back down and tugs him closer, rolling him over against his side. "Rest now, pretty one. I think you've earned it, after what I put you through tonight."

"Quite."

There's that silence again, easy, filled only with the even cadence of their breathing. It's nice, to lay with someone like this. Bull has always been a fan of post-coital cuddling. He could lay like this until they both fell asleep, tangled up and comfortable.

"So," Dorian says, hesitant.

"Yeah?"

The mage lays a hand over Bull's where it's pressed against his chest. "You said 'next time'," he whispers.

"Yeah."

"Oh."

Bull smiles, presses his face into Dorian's hair. "Anything you want, Dorian," he reiterates. "For as long as you want it."

Several moments pass, quiet and pensive. Dorian wants to say something, but doesn't know what, or how. So he settles for nothing at all. This is enough, for tonight, anyway. He will leave in the morning, before the sun rises, before Bull wakes. He knows it absently, like it isn't a choice so much as a fact. Then he turns, twists around so he can splay his body over Bull's side and wrap thin arms around his chest. There, embraced like a lover in the bed of a Qunari, Dorian sleeps.


End file.
